House of Blood and Bone

by Kimberley J. Ward

  “Oh,” Orm smiled, “you and Hunter broke into the castle to try and kill Margan.”

  “What!” Nessa stumbled, only stopped from tripping over by her and Orm’s linked arms. “I tried to help kill someone?”

  Orm patted her hand reassuringly. “What are good friends for if not to help each other enact revenge?”

  “There’s having each other’s backs,” Nessa croaked, “and there’s being an accomplice to murder.”

  “Revenge,” Orm corrected. “Revenge and murder are very different from each other.”

  “Umm.”

  “Ignore him,” Hunter told her, glaring at Orm, who merely rolled his eyes and looked away. “It wasn’t like how he’s telling it.”

  “So we didn’t try to kill Margan?”

  “No, we didn’t,” Hunter murmured. Nessa started to relax before he added, “I did, though.”

  Nessa was shocked, not quite able to wrap her mind around the fact that one of her friends had tried to kill someone. “Why do you want to kill Margan?”

  Blood leached from Hunter’s face. “I have my reasons.”

  “Good ones?” Nessa whispered. “I hope?”

  Hunter nodded stiffly.

  Nessa abandoned the subject, wishing that she’d never brought it up to begin with. Whilst Hunter’s face was pale and impassive, it was the look in his eyes that gave Nessa pause. They shone brightly with emotion, burning with a mixture of anger and pain. He had his reasons, although Nessa wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to know what they were.

  Margan must have done something to Hunter. Something bad. Awful. Why else would Hunter be driven to try and kill Margan? Whatever it was, it couldn’t have happened all too long ago. The pain in Hunter’s eyes was still too fresh, the wounds too raw.

  Floundering, not knowing what to do or say, feeling as if she had done something wrong, Nessa reached out her mind. Oh Aoife, I think I’ve brought up something I shouldn’t have.

  Don’t worry, my little Rider, Aoife said, her tone wise and soothing. He has a few devils he needs to battle, but he will tell you what they are when he is ready.

  Do you know what these devils are?

  I do. They were told to me in confidence. I promised I wouldn’t tell a soul. They are his to bear and his to share if he so wishes to.

  Hmm.

  Don’t dwell on it, Aoife told her. You’ve done nothing wrong.

  I feel like I have.

  You haven’t.

  If you say so.

  I do.

  Okay then.

  Okay.

  Nessa resisted the urge to sigh—just. She didn’t want to alert Orm and Hunter to her silent conversation. A large part of her found the idea of being able to speak mentally to someone else rather strange. The fact that she was speaking telepathically with a dragon, her dragon, still hadn’t sunk in fully.

  How’s flying?

  The weather today is perfect. I can’t wait until it’s you on my back instead of all these bags. I’ll be able to show you the world in a way few can even imagine, let alone experience.

  Nessa gazed upwards, trying to peer through the tree branches and amber leaves, her eyes searching for a shimmer of purple in the sea of blue above. I can’t see you. Where are you?

  I’m a few miles north of where you are. Mist is rising from the base of the mountains. I’m hiding in that.

  Nessa looked over to the mountains, unable to see much more of them other than their snow-covered peaks. I still can’t see you.

  I do believe that’s the whole point of hiding.

  Ooh, a sarcastic dragon.

  Quiet you, Aoife said, her amusement reaching Nessa through their bond. If you spend six months with Orm and Hunter, sarcasm is just something that develops of its own accord. I was powerless to stop it.

  Were you, now?

  Oh yes. The sarcasm is strong with those two. Just you wait. A few more weeks and then you’ll be joining us in our sarcastic ways.

  I can’t wait.

  See? Aoife snorted. Only a couple of days with them and it's already happening.

  Nessa chuckled and clamped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed at being caught laughing at herself.

  Orm raised his brows, peering at her, then looked over his shoulder at Hunter. “I have a feeling someone’s talking about us behind our backs.”

  Hunter smirked. “Or she’s simply realised how absurd your poisonous mushroom jewellery idea is.”

  “The mushroom jewellery is an amazing idea,” Nessa argued. “I was just laughing at…”

  “Us,” Orm finished.

  “You were merely mentioned in passing.”

  “So we’re not even worth a good gossip between you and your dragon?” Orm shook his head. “Are you hearing this, Hunter? And to think I was about to set up a jewellery empire with you. Tut-tut, Nessa. Tut-tut.”

  “What is going on?” Nessa asked, bewildered at the conversation’s sudden change of direction.

  He’s mad, Aoife explained. Completely mad.

  I agree.

  “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” Orm’s eyebrows rose. “Talking to that dragon of yours. Chitchatting.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are too. You kinda get this zoned out expression like you’re thinking really hard about something.”

  “I don’t get a ‘zoned out’ look.” She turned to Hunter. “Do I?”

  Hunter raised his hands in surrender. “Believe it or not, but I don’t really know. I’m behind you, so I can’t actually see.”

  “Oh, right. Of course.” Nessa slipped her arm free from Orm’s and fell into step with Hunter. Whatever had been troubling him only a minute ago wasn't anymore. The colour was back in his face and his eyes were cheerful as he gazed down at her.

  “And what, pray tell,” Hunter said, “were you and Aoife talking about if it wasn’t about me, Orm or poisonous jewellery?”

  Nessa shrugged. “I was merely checking up on her. Making sure she was alright.”

  “And is she?”

  “Yep. She’s having some fun flying around the mountain foothills. Apparently, there’s mist for her to hide in.”

  “Ooo, mountain mist,” Orm remarked dryly. “How exciting.”

  “And how are you?” Hunter asked, giving Orm’s back a withering glare. “Are you alright?”

  “Oh, I’m more than alright,” Nessa said brightly. “I’m enjoying this walk quite a bit.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. The sun is shining, there are colourful mushrooms dotted around and I have fantastic company.”

  “Hear that Orm? We’re fantastic company.”

  Orm grinned. “Indeed we are.”

  “Now,” Hunter said to her, “you keep hold of those happy thoughts. You’ll need them in mind later when you’re sick of walking and want to curl up in a ball on the ground, having no intention of ever moving again.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to do that when I’m fed up with walking.”

  “No?”

  “Nope. Orm will be giving me a piggyback long before that happens.”

  Hunter threw back his head and roared with laughter. Nessa smiled as Orm sputtered with indignation.

  “Anyway,” Nessa added. “We’ve been walking for a while, and I’m doing fine.”

  “Feet don’t hurt?”

  “Not yet.”

  Hunter gazed upwards, tracking the pace of the sun. “That’s impressive. We’ve been walking for a couple of hours.”

  Nessa was surprised. “Really? That long. It feels like only half that.”

  “Mmm, we must have covered a few miles.”

  “And yet there’s no end of this forest in sight.”

  Trees surrounded them, mighty oaks, thick-trunked and with twisted branches that reached far overhead. Small clusters of hawthorns and maples grew here and there, tall and spindly, barely more than saplings. Whilst there was no sign of the forest coming to an end anytime soon, there was a change within it.
>
  It was beginning to feel different.

  Back at the campsite, the air had held an ominous quality, a warning. The trees had been watchful, waiting for something. Now, though, they were silent and sleepy, just as they should be, growing further part, the gaps between them slowly getting wider and wider.

  It was peaceful.

  Calm.

  Normal.

  “This land is wild and the forest old,” Hunter said. “It stretches far and wide, but we are nearly free from it. I’d imagine Aoife would be able to tell you how much further we have to go, if you ask her. Bird’s-eye view and all that.”

  Orm sniggered. “Ha, more like a dragon’s-eye view.”

  “Why don’t you ask Aoife?” Nessa said. “I think the information would be a lot more useful to you than me. I have absolutely no idea where Arncraft is.”

  “I can’t,” Hunter murmured. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  Nessa was confused. “Well, how does it work? Aoife’s talked to you before.”

  “Yes, Aoife and I talk. Quite often too, I’d like to add.” Hunter’s brows pulled together. “It’s just…”

  “Hunter’s mind doesn’t work like ours,” Orm said, saving Hunter from having to explain. “Therefore, he has to play by a different set of rules when it comes to magic-related issues.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because he’s a human through and through,” Orm clarified. “You and I, we’re Old Bloods. We have magic. Hunter, bless his poor, bland soul, doesn’t have a drop of magic in him.”

  Nessa peered at Hunter, wondering if he took offence at his friend’s less than complimentary description of his humanness.

  Hunter shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s something I’m eternally grateful for.” At Nessa’s questioning look, he added, “In my opinion, magic is a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”

  “That’s just because you don’t have it,” Orm said, a little smug.

  Nessa could sense Aoife listening in on their conversation. She could feel the tug on their bond, the strange sensation of Aoife’s mind brushing against her own. Whilst Aoife was listening, she didn’t seem inclined to join in with the conversation, so Nessa asked, “What does having magic have to do with Hunter being able to talk to Aoife?”

  “Oh, he can talk to Aoife,” Orm said, “but only if she wants to talk to him in the first place.” He gave up his slight lead, and Nessa found herself sandwiched between the two of them, Orm on her right and Hunter on her left.

  “You see,” Orm continued, “as beings of magic, we are of a different mind. And I mean that in quite a literal way. Hunter’s mind is, shall we say, fixed. It’s there to stay, never venturing outside his physical form. But Nessa, our minds are different. They are fluid. With the proper tutelage, we can cast them out, send them beyond our physical forms. With this ability, we can communicate telepathically with others, unhindered by the constraint of distance.”

  Nessa frowned, struggling to digest what Orm was saying. “So, because we are Old Bloods, and because our minds are fluid, we could stand on the opposite sides of the world and have a nice chat?”

  “Well, theoretically yes.”

  “But Hunter and I can’t because I’m an Old Blood and he’s not?”

  “You can reach your mind out to his,” Orm said, “and then you can talk with each other. However, you would always have to be the one to initiate it, not him, because his mind is fixed and he cannot cast it out to you.”

  For a second, Nessa could feel Aoife’s agreement trickling through their bond, and then she felt Aoife withdraw, having grown bored with the conversation. Nessa was once again left alone with her thoughts. Questions arose.

  “If what you say is true,” Nessa said to Orm, “then doesn't that mean you and I could have a telepathic chat right now?”

  “Well, I suppose we could,” Orm mused. “However, you don’t have the knowledge of how to do so, so you’d probably have to rely on me to keep our minds connected.”

  “But I can communicate with Aoife without a problem, so why would it be any different with you? Or anyone else, come to think of it?”

  “Because it’s different when it comes to you and Aoife.”

  “Of course it is,” Nessa muttered.

  Hunter snorted, his lips twitching with a barely suppressed smirk.

  Orm pulled Nessa to a stop and reached out, pushing back her sleeve. Surprised, Nessa offered no resistance. Soft sunlight caught on the iridescent mark that curled around her forearm, wrist and hand.

  Tapping it with a large, broad-tipped finger, Orm said, “This here is evidence of how you are different to me. This is the physical manifestation of the connection between you and Aoife. You and Aoife are bound together, body and soul. Your minds are melded together in a very intricate way. Someone like me, no matter how much practice, will never experience the level of ease that you and Aoife will have in anything related to magic. With as much energy as blinking, you can reach out to each other and know what the other is thinking, what they are feeling. You need to understand that while other magic users can cast out their minds, with years of practice and patience, it isn't an easy or natural thing to do. The connection you share with Aoife is something only experienced between a dragon and their Rider. While you are an Old Blood, you are also a Dragon Rider. You are something that this world has never seen before. I fear that the rules that govern me and my gifts, along with those of others, aren’t quite the same for you.”

  Nessa tugged her arm free and stared at the mark. “So, what you saying is: I’m weird and it’s like the blind leading the blind when it comes to me, Aoife and magic?”

  Orm nodded slowly. “Pretty much.”

  “Fantastic.”

  Placing a hand on the small of her back, Hunter urged her forwards. “Think of it as venturing into uncharted territory,” he murmured to her as they started walking again.

  “When we’re safely tucked away somewhere in Ellor,” Orm said, “I’ll help you discover what you can do, teach you all that I know about magic. If you want me to?”

  “I’ll take you up on that offer,” Nessa said with a sigh, pulling down her sleeve, hiding all of the mark save for the part that ran over the back of her hand. “The other Dragon Riders…do they have marks like mine?”

  “Yes.” It was Hunter who answered. “The mark you bear is like those of any blood vow: the visible manifestation of the unbreakable bond between you and Aoife, between dragon and Rider. All Dragon Riders have one, although there are slight variations between them, like size and colour.”

  Nessa peered at hers, twisting her hand this way and that, watching as it shimmered faintly with different hues of purple, not too dissimilar to Aoife’s colouring. “Huh. Cool.”

  ∞∞∞

  The spacing between the trees grew ever wider as the day gradually passed, and the leaf litter slowly gave way to a carpet of fine grass and moss. Much to Nessa’s disappointment, her colourful and deadly mushrooms dwindled in number until they disappeared altogether.

  “How many Dragon Riders are there?” Nessa asked quietly.

  “In the good old days, there were twelve Dragon Riders,” Hunter said. “One dragon and Rider per House. One for each of the twelve ruling families. However, since King Kaenar came into power, things got a little complicated.”

  “Excluding you,” Orm did some quick counting with the aid of his fingers, “there are currently fourteen other Dragon Riders.”

  “So there’s only two more Dragon Riders than there should be?” pondered Nessa. “That doesn’t sound too complicated.”

  “Three if we count you,” Hunter added. “And if we want to get really particular, then there are four extra Dragon Riders thanks to the king’s meddling.”

  Nessa sighed and tapped her temple as a subtle reminder. “I’m not really following.”

  “Before the king came into power, there were the twelve ruling families, the Twelve Houses.”

  “Right.”
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br />   “Each of the Twelve Houses had their own Dragon Rider. This Rider would govern the lands, protect them and such.”

  “I’m with you so far.”

  Hunter nodded. “Great. Now, five centuries ago, there was a terrible war. In the aftermath, King Kaenar rose up and claimed the lands for his own. Many of the Houses followed him out of lust for more power or out of fear.”

  “That’s not very good.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Hunter agreed. “Lingering stories tell of a House that tried to stand against him: House Fæger. They fought him with everything they had, but alas, it was all for nothing. They lost. In revenge for their rebellion, King Kaenar destroyed them, killed every last one of them. While all of us know of the Twelve Houses, House Fæger is nothing more than a memory.”

  “So, no more Dragon Riders for House Fæger then.”

  “No more Dragon Riders for House Fæger. But there’s still another eleven Houses, all of which have their obligatory Dragon Rider. A couple have more than one.”

  “Oh?”

  “Before King Kaenar, no House ever had more than one Rider at a time. There was never an exception to this, not even in times of war. It just wasn’t done.”

  “And then the king came along and…?”

  “And somehow he changed things. Two of his most loyal Houses both had twins in line as their next Riders, and when their predecessors passed away, he bequeathed both sets of twins with their own dragon eggs. When those eggs hatched, there were four Dragon Riders when there should have only been two.”

  “You need to understand that the bond between a dragon and their Rider isn’t a naturally occurring thing,” Orm added. “It was something that came about thousands of years ago by magic. The spell used to create the Dragon Riders prevented each House from having more than one Dragon Rider at a time.”

  Nessa frowned. “But if the king managed to gain extra Riders with the twins, then doesn’t that mean the spell isn’t working like it used to?”

  “It’s more likely that he’s found a way around the spell.”

  Nessa looked at Orm, intrigued by the amount of unease colouring his words. “Your tone suggests that’s not a good thing?”

  “No,” he said quietly, “that’s most definitely not a good thing.”